Paint me
by jellysunfish
Summary: Painter AU, supernatural elements, dark YX, implied twincest /Paint me/ He still feels the other's phantom breaths in his ears. So he paints.
1. Paint me

**Part 1 of Paint:** Paint me

* * *

They're so similar, he could be looking in a mirror. But they're not the same. The other's cheeks are a little sharper, his waist a little skinnier, his skin a little paler. His eyes glisten golden with a shine that is far brighter than Ye Qiu's own.

He paints fervidly. In watercolor. In oil paint. In ink. Side profiles, close ups, full bodies. The paintings surround him. A lock of black hair tacked to the wall, slender fingers leaning against the windows, a serene face taped to the ceiling.

He can't explain it. Who is this person? Why does he look so similar to himself? Even though he only appears in his dreams, only in bits and pieces, why can he picture him so vividly? All he knows is that he is compelled to paint that person. To paint, and paint, and keep painting.

"Ye Qiu! You have a gallery in three days! Pick up your freaking phone for god's sake!"

His agent Su Muqiu bursts through the doors of his studio apartment, but Ye Qiu does not answer, still too absorbed in trying to capture the curvature of his nose, the way it slopes down and rounds off before leading into a pair of rosebud lips.

"My god." Su Muqiu walks in a slow circle around the apartment, silently marveling at the portraits Ye Qiu has painted. There are dozens, maybe even hundreds, in varying sizes and compositions, propped up on his furniture, or taped to the walls, or piled into stacks on the floor. He finally comes up to where Ye Qiu is standing at his easel painting a larger than life face. He goes to step in closer to the painting, when he is stopped from moving forward by an outstretched arm. He looks to Ye Qiu questioningly. The painter nods downward and Muqiu's gaze follows the movement. Had he stepped further, he would have stepped on another portrait. The agent bends down to pick it up.

"Ye Qiu, this is amazing. You _have_ to put these self-portraits in your gallery in three days."

"No."

"No?! But these are some of your best works! When did you even start making all of these?"

"No, they're not self-portraits. And just this week."

"This week? Dayum." Muqiu whistles his appreciation. He holds up the portrait in his hands to the light. "So if they're not self-portraits, then are they self-reflections?"

"No." he says resolutely. "They- they're..." he trails off, unsure of what to say.

Muqiu sighs. "Well, don't stress too much about it. But please, let's put some of these in your gallery! I can see it. This large one as the centerpiece, then stretching out, we'll put the smaller ones on either side working the way down from the head..." Muqiu takes out a black leather notebook and starts scribbling in it and muttering to himself.

Muqiu drags him out to have lunch, as he hasn't had a proper meal in days, but even as he sits waiting for his food, the other pervades his every thought. Ye Qiu leaves the restaurant with seven different napkin doodles of him.

 _Paint me_

He hears the other's whispers in his dreams.

 _Paint me_

He dreams of falling into the pools of gold that are his eyes.

 _Paint me_

He reaches out to touch the other's cheek.

Ye Qiu wakes up with his arm still outstretched. He blinks, once, slowly, and pulls his hand back to place it on his own cheek.

 _Paint me_

He still feels the other's phantom breaths in his ears.

So he paints.

#####

Ye Qiu is an artist. He's not a receptionist. So why does he have to stand there greeting people at the doorway of his own gallery? His fingers itch for the familiar wooden grain of his paintbrush, but he promised Muqiu that he would be here for the opening ceremony.

He feels a rush of wind from behind his back and catches a glimpse of a neckline that he _knows_ from the corner of his eye. He turns around and scans the attendees milling around in the reception area drinking flutes of sparkling champagne and eating little cheeses on toothpicks. He doesn't know what he was hoping for. The other appears only in his dreams.

Another couple comes through the door, and Ye Qiu has to return his attention to greeting his guests. But his thoughts remain on the other.

When it's time for the ceremony, he and Muqiu lead the crowd into the main gallery hall. He lets out a reverent breath as he sees his works from the past week all laid out on the wall of the gallery.

The largest portrait is in the center, and sprawling outwards, the slope of his shoulders, the angle of his shoulder blade, the bare expanse of his stomach, the line of his long legs, his delicate toes. Put all together like this, there was almost an ethereal quality to the display. Su Muqiu really had an eye for this. If he didn't paint it himself, he would say it was almost like... a shrine.

Su Muqiu ushered him to the front of the room and handed him a microphone. The guests stop to applaud him.

"I present to you the star of tonight, painter extraordinaire, Ye Qiu. Will you tell us a little about this new series of yours, Ye Qiu?"

His mouth goes dry trying to think of something to say. Of course Muqiu had prepped him earlier with the questions, but he doesn't want to _lie_ or stretch the truth or whatever Muqiu had suggested. Yes, these paintings have meaning to him, but he still isn't quite sure what it is yet.

"These...," he starts slowly, stalling for time, "are not self-portraits, nor are they self-reflections or the like."

The audience murmurs, wondering what it could possibly mean for Ye Qiu to so clearly paint himself, or at least a representation of the self without having it be a self portrait.

"This is... He is..."

" _Ye Xiu._ "

The name comes unbidden to his lips. It feels like it's almost someone else speaking for him. He says it again. "Ye...Xiu..."

His fingers twitch. He wants to go home and paint. Paint and paint and paint and paint. He finally has a name to the other. _YeXiuYeXiuYeXiuYeXiu._

He turns to Muqiu, and hands him back the microphone in his hand. "I need to go home," he says calmly. And that's all the warning Su Muqiu gets before he bolts from the gallery.

#####

"Ye Xiu."

"That's me."

He can finally see the other clearly in his dream. He takes a step forward. Ye Xiu takes a step back.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ye Xiu."

He makes a face and the other laughs. It sounds so similar to his own, and yet it feels more melodic, more full.

"Paint me." He says it with a smile, as if Ye Qiu has not spent the whole week painting him without food or rest.

"Paint me."

#####

He paints more portraits.

Ye Xiu fades in and out of his vision like a ghost. He tries his best to capture each appearance on canvas before he fades again. Ye Xiu swinging his legs sitting on top of his kitchen counter. Ye Xiu peering through his closet, examining his one suit and his old paint splattered tees. Ye Xiu lying lazily on his bed. Ye Xiu sprawled out upside down on his couch, all the while mouthing _paint me_.

He dreams of Ye Xiu.

"Won't you tell me who you are?"

"You already know."

"I don't."

The other shrugs. "A part of you does."

He steps in closer and reaches out his hand. He wants to run his hands along his body, to feel the lines that he has painted and painted and painted. Ye Xiu pulls away like usual.

"Won't you let me touch you?"

"Not yet."

"What can I do to touch you?"

The other, with that face so similar to his, gives him a lopsided smile. "Paint me."

#####

He gets a call from his mother.

"Ye Qiu, you should come home. Your father and I need to talk to you about something."

"Is someone dead or dying?"

"No, but it's about..."

"It can wait."

He hangs up and goes back to his easel, back to Ye Xiu. The other is perched on a stool posing for him. Without moving his body, he raises an eyebrow.

"Our mother."

Ye Xiu's lips curl up. "So you've figured it out then, have you?"

"Mm. That's what feels right."

Ye Xiu's been appearing for longer and longer now. His skin seems pinker, less translucent, less ready to fade away at any moment. Ye Qiu brings his watercolor brush to the paper and applies a light wash over the skin. As he waits for the layer to dry, he plans the additional layers of color for the shades of his skin tone, his dark hair, his simple clothing. Ye Xiu watches him with rapture as he mixes the pigments and tests out color swatches, a curious glint in his eyes.

He brushes lightly along the likeness of Ye Xiu's slender fingers, and he hears the other gasp in delighted wonder. "Oh."

Ye Qiu looks up and sees vivid color bloom from Ye Xiu's hand like the watercolor pigment spreading across his painting.

Ye Xiu's golden eyes shine. "Paint me more."

#####

Finally, finally he is allowed to touch, to worship. He runs his hands down his sides, through his hair, tracing his fingers along every curve that he knows so well. Angles so similar to his own and yet, not the same.

"Ye Xiu," he whispers in awe. "Ye Xiu."

The other caresses him with his soft skinned hands. "Ye Qiu. Paint me. Paint me red with your passion. Paint me black and blue with bruises. Give me your everything."

"Yes," he replies fervently. "Everything."

#####

Ye Qiu wakes up spent and exhausted, as if he were the one who was so thoroughly explored the previous night. He lays in bed, tucked under the covers, unable to move even a muscle.

Ye Xiu is there at his easel, painting.

"That's my painting," he manages to croak out.

The other ignores him. "It's my painting now." Ye Xiu adds a dark slash of black across the canvas and Ye Qiu feels himself getting weaker, as if his spirit is floating away.

"Stop. Please." He wants to reach out, to touch, to stop Ye Xiu.

"You know," the other says plainly, "it was always supposed to be me that was destined for greatness." He adds another dark splotch of paint.

"Ye Xiu." He can feel how his limbs are tingling, how they become lighter with each brush stroke.

"But you were the one who stole it from me. You suffocated me, the weaker twin, in our mother's womb."

"Ye Xiu."

"I was supposed to be the eldest. The glory-blessed. You stole it from me before I was even born."

"Ye Xiu!"

"So I guess, in the end, I'm just taking back what was rightfully mine."

The other adds the last dark stroke over the painting and Ye Qiu feels himself start to disappear.

"Good-bye, Ye Qiu." Ye Xiu's pools of gold bore into his own.

 _Paint me,_ he cries silently in understanding. _Paint me._

#####

"Ye QIU! Are you alive in here?! Why do you never answer your freaking phone?!"

Su Muqiu bursts into the apartment, expecting to find the artist in another of his non-stop painting sessions.

"Ye...Qiu?"

The quiet in the studio apartment makes the whole experience seem surreal. All the not-self-portraits of the so-called Ye Xiu have been cleared away, gone somewhere, and the artist is nowhere to be seen in his usual painting space.

He finally finds Ye Qiu in the bedroom area, on his computer with the lights off.

"Oh, Su Muqiu." The artist looks up, the bright light of the screen illuminating his facial features an eerie blue. "Tell me... what do you think about computer games?"


	2. The old Ye Qiu can't come to the phone

**Part 2 of Paint:** The old Ye Qiu can't come to the phone right now

* * *

His best friend feels different now.

It's weird. It feels weird. He looks the same, sounds the same, and yet...? Sometimes he does things just a bit differently. The way he tilts his head a few degrees further, the way his lips curl up just a bit more, the way those golden eyes sometimes glint in the dim light of his room.

The way that he almost obsessively focuses on one thing is still the same, but Muqiu is a bit off put by the sudden change of interests from painting to gaming.

"Are you... going to go back to painting soon?" He fidgets on Ye Qiu's bed. He has been sitting with Ye Qiu, watching him play and play and play. For hours.

"I'm taking a break right now. I don't exactly need the money, right?" The other says, not even looking up from the monitor. The avatar on the screen destroys a monster and Muqiu watches the animation of the creature falling and fading away.

He supposes that Ye Qiu _would_ deserve a break. Only a few weeks ago he had painted and painted and painted those portraits, almost nonstop without food or rest. And Ye Qiu is a famous painter from a wealthy family. He is no starving artist. He doesn't need the livelihood. But he still feels it's strange for his friend's painting obsession to just halt.

"It's been a while since you last made a piece. Your fans are getting worried. What happened to all that energy from painting those not-self-reflections? Ye... Xiu, wasn't it?"

The painter (former painter?) makes a noncommittal hum. "Just tell them I have artist's block or something. You're good at that sort of thing."

His response is totally normal, but it gives Muqiu a weird shiver down his spine. Didn't Ye Qiu say that he didn't like to lie?

He changes the subject. "You're pretty good at this game." He watches Ye Qiu expertly maneuver the avatar, lengthening the already extensive combo.

"When have I ever _not_ been good at something I put my mind to?" Ye Qiu's response comes as a playful humble brag, but his eyes still light up with a happiness that Su Muqiu has rarely seen.

Muqiu thinks back to when they were in school together. "I guess that's true." His best friend had always excelled at any subject that he bothered to put his effort into. He had just not been interested in anything other than painting. Until now.

Ye Qiu finally looks up to meet his eyes, and they glitter mesmerizingly. "Of course. That's what it means to be Glory-blessed."

#####

He dreams of being back in high school. He is looking for Ye Qiu for some reason. In real life, Ye Qiu had been perpetually holed up in the art room, but in his dream, he just knows that Ye Qiu is not there. It's just a fact. Instead of going to the art room, he wanders the hallways, opening and closing random classroom doors. Inside each room is one of Ye Qiu's portraits. Ye Xiu, he vaguely recalls.

Even the portraits that don't have eyes seem to watch him.

 _Muqiu_ , they whisper.

He slams the doors shut. Where the hell is Ye Qiu?

 _Muqiu._

He hurries up his search, barely glancing at the portrait in each room before slamming the door again.

 _Muqiu._

In the end, he wakes up, sweaty and still half-panicked having been unable to find Ye Qiu.

#####

He bursts into Ye Qiu's studio apartment. Ye Qiu is at his computer. Like usual now.

"Oh good," he sighs in relief, "You're here."

The other smirks. "Where else would I be?"

Muqiu's mouth goes dry and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Uh. I don't know."

He coughs, trying to think of something to say. "That game- that you're playing. What was it called again?"

Ye Qiu's smile softens in fondness. "Glory."

"Err, what's so interesting about it?" He comes around to peer at the computer screen where Ye Qiu is controlling the avatar inside of a dungeon. Now that he's asking, he actually is quite curious. What kind of game could steal a person's heart's so effectively?

"There are lots of things."

He sits down on Ye Qiu's bed behind where he sits at the computer. "Maybe- you could teach me?"

Ye Qiu's eyes shine brighter than he's ever seen. "Sure."

Muqiu can't look away. When did Ye Qiu become so... magnetic?

#####

He's in the school again. Still looking for Ye Qiu. There are no doors this time, only a long white hallway. Lining the hall are the portraits. Muqiu keeps his eyes down at his feet as he runs through the hall looking for Ye Qiu. He can feel the pressure of the paintings staring down at him like a heavy weight placed on his back.

 _Muqiu._

The whispers get louder as he runs faster.

 _Muqiu._

Ye Qiu. He has to find Ye Qiu.

" _Muqiu!_ "

He stops in the middle of the hall as he realizes. The voice is Ye Qiu's.

" _Help...please..."_

He runs faster, nearly tripping over his feet in his mad scramble. He finally reaches the end of the hall. It's the computer room. Ye Qiu is there playing Glory. He is relieved. Maybe the paintings will stop haunting him now that he's found their owner.

"There you are Ye Qiu. I was looking for you."

Ye Qiu turns his head and smiles widely. He opens his mouth to speak. And the alarm bells go off in his mind.

 _WRONGWRONGWRONGWRONG_

#####

Su Muqiu wakes up to his alarm blaring. Oh, so that's probably what was in his dream. He jumps in the shower to wash off the sweat he's accumulated from tossing and turning all night.

He calls Ye Qiu while drying his wet hair with a towel. A client wants to buy some of the portraits of Ye Xiu. Su Muqiu needs to negotiate a suitable selling price with Ye Qiu based on which part of the series the client wants.

"No."

"Why not?! You haven't made any new ones, and this client is offering a lot of money and publicity. Ye Qiu. This could be a big opportunity for you."

"Just because I've stopped painting for a while doesn't mean that these paintings hold no value to me. I can't sell them."

Muqiu sighs. It seems that Ye Qiu's stubbornness hadn't changed along with the rest of his personality. He still feels strange about it. First he goes into some sort of painting fever and churns out literally hundred of portraits, and then he stops completely and starts playing video games? Muqiu supposes that his life should be less stressful, since he now has free time instead of always begging Ye Qiu to finish his paintings before his deadlines and trying to deal with galleries for display space, but he can't help but worry. It gives him this gnawing feeling in his stomach.

"I- Are you doing okay?"

Ye Qiu makes a confused noise from the other side of the phone. "Hmm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've... been acting weird since you started making those portraits. It's almost like... like you're a different person. A-and it worries me because I keep having these dreams..."

"Dreams?" Muqiu is thrown off by the sudden chill in the other's tone.

"Uh, yeah. Dreams where... you want me to help you."

"Muqiu..." the other starts slowly, "I think I might be able to give you a painting to sell after all."

#####

Muqiu brings the client over to Ye Qiu's apartment to see the new piece Ye Qiu has painted for him. Muqiu has no clue why he had changed his mind, but he's glad that his friend has finally started to paint again. He turns the key through the lock.

The painting sits on the easel at the center of the apartment. He sees it from the moment he enters. He can't breathe.

It's a large square canvas with Ye Xiu's face painted atop it. Covering his mouth, ears, and eyes are dark slashes of black, as if it were some gruesome crime scene that had to be censored.

The client is overjoyed seeing the painting. "Amazing! The composition, the contrast, the symbolism! Please, Ye Qiu, what does it mean?"

Ye Qiu looks straight at Muqiu as he answers. "It symbolizes how sometimes it is less painful to be ignorant. To be blind, deaf, and mute."

Mu Qiu's knees start to quiver. He takes a shaky step back. Ye Qiu walks toward him. The other leans toward him to whisper in his ear, the breath tickling and causing a shudder in his side. "Let's play Glory after he leaves."

#####

In his dream, Muqiu is in the art room. Ye Qiu is there painting. He feels a sense of relief seeing the artist as he is used to seeing him. Completely absorbed in his art.

"Ye Qiu!" He calls out. He walks up to the painter and taps him on the shoulder.

The painter turns and he is filled with horror. Where the eyes, ears, and mouth should be are empty black voids.

He shoots up in his bed, gasping for breath, heart pounding. The silence of the night rings in his ears. He is afraid to turn his head, as if the monstrosity from his dream would appear from any dark corner.

Ye Qiu's words come back to him. How it's sometimes better to be ignorant. He wishes that he were.

#####

He meets Ye Qiu at a local Internet cafe. There is a local Glory tournament going on today, prompting one of the first times Ye Qiu has gone out since the gallery a few months ago. Ye Qiu had asked him to be his partner for the 2 v. 2 portion.

Honestly, he didn't think he was ready for a tournament, but it appears that being under Ye Qiu's expert tutelage, he had progressed further than he had thought. Fighting together and winning match after match, they quickly make their way to the top and emerge victorious.

As the host hands Ye Qiu the golden trophy, Muqiu can't help but think that his best friend looks so natural, so right, there, among the gamers. But his mind says no. No, it shouldn't be- couldn't be- his Ye Qiu? His Ye Qiu would be stiff, eyeing the gamers warily, just wanting to go home to his easel. It's wrong. It's wrong. It should be wrong. But Ye Qiu is so radiant. Much more so than he ever has been before. He's conflicted. Why does he feel this way? Shouldn't he feel happy for his friend?

#####

The walk back to Ye Qiu's apartment is abnormally silent. Only until they reach the apartment does one of them speak.

"Did you enjoy the tournament, Muqiu?"

Muqiu hums distractedly.

The painter turns to inspect his face. "...What are you thinking so hard about?"

Muqiu is silent as he thinks. Finally he says, "...It's just that... you're so different now. Not that your new you isn't good, but where did the old you go? It's wrong. It feels wrong. You're not the Ye Qiu I know anymore. You're like some other person who looks the same, talks the same, but... I can't explain how it's different. It just feels wrong. I _miss_ the old you."

"Do you... want to see the old Ye Qiu that much?"

The other has a blank look on his face. Muqiu realizes that he might've just said a hurtful thing. But he can't lie.

"Yeah, I do."

The other is quiet. He suddenly turns to grab a stool and sets it in the middle of the studio.

"Sit." He says.

Muqiu is surprised, but plops his butt down on the stool. He watches Ye Qiu dig around in the closet and his eyes widen as the brushes and canvas that had been stored away for the past few months are taken out again.

The artist drags out his easel and sets the canvas atop it.

He watches the delicate hands mix the paints and bend at the wrist to bring paintbrush to the white canvas. With each stroke, Muqiu feels himself start to relax. Yes, this is how it was supposed to be.

He stays silent as Ye Qiu paints, just watching those golden eyes focus on the lines in front of him. He's always thought that Ye Qiu looks beautiful while he paints. Always admired how he was so dedicated to his craft to never look away. And he has always loved how Ye Qiu would drag him over after he completed a piece, and his eyes would crinkle just a little bit with happiness and pride.

It dawns on him that this may be why he is so uncomfortable with Ye Qiu quitting painting. Because he low-key has a crush on the painter. What is their relationship supposed to be if not painter and agent? Ye Qiu doesn't need an agent to be a gamer.

He owes Ye Qiu an apology. Perhaps he's been pressuring Ye Qiu to go back to 'normal' completely for his own benefit.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in his throat. He opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out. He starts to panic, wants to clutch at his throat, but his arms are stuck to his sides. He wants to get up, hop down from the stool, but his body is too heavy.

"Guurhhgh," he finally chokes out gutturally.

The artist looks him in the eyes as he makes a dark sweeping stroke over the painting. The shine that is usually there is gone, replaced by a cold, unfeeling stare. "I'm sorry Muqiu. I didn't want to do this. I thought it would be different this time."

The other made another dark slash. "But you know too much. You forced me to do this. I warned you."

Muqiu is frozen. He can't talk, can't move, can't breathe.

"I warned you. But you didn't listen. You forced me. I warned you."

His head is so light, but his body feels so heavy. His sees Ye Qiu make one last dark splotch before his vision goes blurry and he feels himself slip into nothingness.

"But at least... you'll get what you wanted."

#####

"I just don't- don't understand! He- he's not the type to just disappear like that! He's my brother! He wouldn't- wouldn't..."

Ye Qiu rubs Su Mucheng's back with soothing circles.

"Muqiu is important to me too." He says.

The girl nearly collapses into his chest. "I don't know what to do with myself! I- I- I can't just keep waiting!"

He pets her orange hair. "Let's wait for him together. I know something that can help pass the time."

The girl sniffles. "Yeah?"

The girl, with her face buried into his chest, doesn't see the golden glint in his eyes.

"Have you ever heard of the game Glory?"


	3. Catch a falling star

**Part 3 of Paint:** Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

* * *

Yifan doesn't know how he was convinced to go with Yingjie to City H during their summer break. Why should they travel halfway across the country if there were plenty of sightseeing places right outside City B?

"Yingjie, do you even have a plan going into this, or are we just wandering around blindly?"

"Don't worry." His friend pats his back in reassurance. "I have a plan. See, it's the captain's birthday coming up, and while we were chatting during practice the other day, he told me that he really likes paintings from this one artist. Except it turns out that this guy's been on hiatus for a little while and has stopped painting. So we're going to find him and then commission him to make a piece for Captain!"

He feels a stab hit him in the gut. How nice it must be, to be able to chat frivolously with the captain.

Yingjie looks at him with a big grin, waiting for his enthusiastic response. He takes his jealousy and crushes it back into a tiny ball inside of him, where it belongs.

"Is it okay to ask a famous painter to paint something? How much does one cost?"

"Umm... that I don't know. I tried sending an email to his agent, but I never got a reply."

"If that's the case, do you even know where to find him?"

"Nooo..." Gao Yingjie shrinks in his seat, sufficiently cowed. "But we do have the whole week to find him." At Qiao Yifan's sigh, he adds shyly, "I figured that even if we didn't find him, we'd still have a fun time traveling together."

The guilt pools in his stomach. When was the last time they had they just hung out with each other?

"You're right. It will be fun to be with you outside of practice..."

#####

They go to some art galleries to see some of the paintings of this famous painter. Ye Qiu, he learns this artist's name is.

They're truly exquisite paintings. Beautiful cityscapes with figures so real that Yifan would not be surprised if one of them suddenly leapt off the canvas. He can see why the captain is so apparently enamored.

"Maybe if we can't find him, we can get the captain a print. He would like that, right?" Yingjie ponders. The brunette taps his chin while gazing up at the painting.

"Probably," he replies, But how would I know? He squashes that thought like a bug.

One gallery has a digital display of all of Ye Qiu's paintings. He flicks through them absentmindedly with his finger as Yingjie agonizes over prints in the gift shop debating whether to get one now or wait until later in the week.

The display pauses on one of Ye Qiu's more recent paintings. Long and slender fingers, positioned as if they were resting on a keyboard. He suddenly feels the urge to go back and practice. Practice and practice and practice. He needs to work thrice as hard as everyone else just to keep up and this vacation wasn't helping any.

Yingjie peered over his shoulder at the display. Evidently, he had decided to wait to buy the captain's gift.

"This is from Ye Qiu's most recent series, from right before he went on hiatus." His friend reaches across him to flick over to a portrait of a handsome face.

The portrait's subject looks almost ethereal, the light of the screen like a glowing halo.

"They say that Ye Qiu looks exactly like this painting, but he refuses to call it a self-portrait. The series is called Ye Xiu. Isn't that odd? The names are so similar, but still he insists that they're different."

"You've really done your homework," Yifan remarks, tracing the line of Ye Xiu's jaw on the screen.

Yingjie's smile is so pure his heart aches. "I just really want to give captain the best birthday present ever as thanks for helping me so much."

#####

They eat dinner at a cheap restaurant close to their hotel. On the way back they look for an internet cafe to log into the game for some informal practice.

"Excellent Era Internet Cafe. Looks like it's open all night. Yifan, let's go in and spar."

"Wait, I think I remember seeing an internet cafe down that way. We should check that one first. I think it's cheaper there."

Yingjie's mouth twitches up. "That's just like you to notice." He spins around so that he's walking backwards. "What would I do without you?"

"Die from dehydration probably."

"Ha ha." His best friend gains a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Race ya there!" He takes off running, and Yifan briefly watches the thin slip of his back as he darts through the shadows cast by the setting sun before he too starts running with all his might trying to catch up.

#####

Yingjie's already paying for a few hours on the computer when he walks in and sees it. The face of a person whose features had been etched into his mind only a few hours earlier.

Blue eyes meet gold and he's caught staring.

" Ye Xiu. " the name slips out of his mouth inadvertently, and he swears the other's eyes glow even brighter with amusement, though he couldn't have possibly heard him amid the ambient noise of the internet cafe. Stop looking , he thinks. Stop staring. But his gaze remains caught in the other's gravitational force.

He inches up to Yingjie and tugs on his sleeve.

"Hmm? What is it?"

Yingjie follows his gaze to the person at the computer watching the two of them.

"It's him!"

#####

"You're Ye Qiu!"

"Am I?" he asks with a coy smile, chin resting on his palm.

"You are!" replies Yingjie. "You're the famous painter Ye Qiu! I- um, We- no, uh..."

Yifan steps in softly when Yingjie begins to stumble over his words. "Our captain is a big fan of your work. My friend was hoping to ask you to paint something for his birthday coming up."

"Your captain... Captain Wang Jiexi, huh?"

The two teenagers' eyes widen as they look at each other questioningly. Yifan slowly shakes his head. Yingjie echoes the action.

Ye Qiu gives them a lopsided smile. "You two are Qiao Yifan and Gao Yingjie, the rookies of Tiny Herb, are you not?"

"Mister Ye Qiu, you know of us?"

"Mm, I do."

A warm feeling of pleasant surprise bubbles its way up from his stomach. He didn't think anyone would be able to recognize Yingjie, much less him, who had not even come out for matches.

"Are you a fan of Tiny Herb? Would you be willing to paint something for our captain?" Yingjie is excited now. And why wouldn't he be? His plan to find Ye Qiu actually worked somehow.

"Hmm. I would say I'm more of a fan of Glory. And you might know this, but I've stopped painting for a while."

Yingjie looks so dejected that he can't help but fumble around for something, anything to keep the conversation going. His eyes land on Ye Qiu's computer screen on what appears to be the equipment editor.

"What if we helped you out in Glory? Would you be willing to paint something then?"

The artist hums as his gaze dart between Yifan's face, his shoulders, his fingers. He shivers under the scrutiny.

"I'll tell you what. I like you. Let's play a game of tag. If either of you can land a hit on me, I'll grant you each a wish, free of charge."

Yingjie answers hesitantly. Even though he wants this badly, he's not one to needlessly bully regular players. "Are you sure? We're pro players. We wouldn't want you to hand away something so valuable for free."

Ye Qiu's smile grows wider. "Don't worry. Think of it as a test of skill if you will. I'm pretty good at Glory, if I say so myself."

#####

They meet Ye Qiu in an open meadow leveling area. His character is covered in a rainbow of mismatched equipment and carries a white umbrella-like weapon. Though the colors are loud and clashing- wasn't an artist supposed to care about color composition?- the character looks peaceful, standing amid the grasses waving gently in the virtual wind.

"The time limit will be twenty minutes. One hit and you win. Anything goes."

"Ready, go!"

The signal is given and Ye Qiu starts to leap back and away. The two snap out of their initial stupor and begin to make chase. Yingjie takes the direct route, flying over on his broom while Yifan follows up behind him. Yingjie's witch throws a lava flask ahead of Ye Qiu's avatar, limiting his movements. The older player stops at the edge of the lava and turns to face them.

Yingjie throws out a disperse powder, trying to get some debuffs, but Ye Qiu is quick. He nimbly side-steps out of range. Yifan has caught up now right beside Ye Qiu. He sends out a stab skill and fully expects it to hit, but somehow there's a puff of smoke and he's moving through the avatar? No, that's impossible, so it can only be...

He's knocked back by a falling flower palm before he can finish that thought. He quick recovers away, but suddenly the umbrella flips up and becomes longer, and he's hit with another stab. What just happened? Just what kind of guy is this?

Yingjie is throwing down skills left and right trying to limit his movements and land at least one hit of damage, but Ye Qiu always anticipates his actions and escapes with a narrow margin. Yingjie's witch swoops down with his broom, and suddenly Yifan can see it. An opportunity! He darts forward aiming for the point when Ye Qiu unleashes an attack on Yingjie, but then the umbrella swings around and opens, and his weapon bounces harmlessly off the top.

From his viewpoint on the ground, he sees the avatar's eyes, the same glittering gold as the player's real ones, pop out from the top of the umbrella. His breath catches as he just stares .

"Don't think for a second that I've forgotten you, Yifan."

#####

The twenty minutes end without either of them having landed a hit on Ye Qiu.

The chair screeches on the ground as Yingjie abruptly stands from his place at the computer. "How did you do that? You're no normal player. Whoare you?!"

"I never recall saying I was a normal player. I told you I was good, didn't I? Besides, weren't you the one telling me who I was before?"

What was supposed to be an easy match of playing chase with a mouse has turned out to be fighting a dragon in disguise. Ye Qiu is basking in his win, but Yifan can't even bear to be annoyed by his smugness. His playstyle is truly amazing.

"You guys are here for the remainder of the summer break, right? If you want to challenge me again, I'm here all week. We can do the same stakes."

Yingjie shoots him a pleading look. Oh right, the painting for Captain. He nods briefly, still half-dazed from their little game.

Even though he lost, even though he's used to losing, the scene repeats again and again in his head. The ghost of Ye Qiu's words tickle his ear.

Don't think for a second...

The skin on his back crawls as they leave the internet cafe, but inside he feels an odd twinge of excitement and longing.

#####

He's invisible. Unseen, unheard, it might have been cool, except for that everything is carrying on just as usual.

Everyone sits down and starts to do their exercises at their station. No one speaks. There is no sound but for the tap tap tap of fingers on keyboards.

"Yingjie, I'm here." He taps his friend on the shoulder. The brunette doesn't even pause.

The taps get louder and louder, tapping and tapping and tapping. He tries to speak over the incessant noise, but he can't even hear himself over the TAPTAPTAP. He begins to panic with dizzying breaths until the world starts spinning all around him.

He awakens with a gasp. He keens a little from the back of his throat. It's a relief to see Yingjie's face twitch and watch him turn over in his bed at the noise.

#####

If they want any hope of landing a hit on Ye Qiu, they need more info about his strange unspecialized character and his transforming weapon. They arrive at Happy Internet Cafe after lunch, and sure enough, Ye Qiu is there.

Yingjie approaches with a kind and unassuming expression, as according to plan. "Brother Expert Ye Qiu, can we study you more before we challenge you today?" he asks sweetly.

The artist smirks. "Sure. Let's dungeon together. Usually we only have one spot open in our dungeoning party, but one of our members does other things during the day."

They do a few runs with Ye Qiu's dungeoning team while trying to observe Ye Qiu's combos of choice. It turns out the other two members are both employees at the internet cafe. Tang Rou is one of the people who helps customers at the front desk, while Bao Rongxing - "Call me Baozi!"- is a security guard.

There's a strange closeness between them and Ye Qiu. It's weirder than just friends casually coming together to form a dungeoning party. They revere him as if he were some sort of prophet, following his every move not just in terms of Glory but watching him and sticking close even in real life. It's curious.

Ye Qiu leaves to use the bathroom, so he turns to the two of them.

"Why do you guys play with Ye Qiu?"

Tang Rou answers first. "Because he helped me get out of my engagement."

"You're engaged?!" Yingjie blurts out.

"Was engaged," she corrects.

"Huh? Isn't it because Boss is awesome? Boss is the best! He got rid of all the people chasing me! And he helped me find this job!" Baozi goes on to literally sing praises about Ye Qiu.

Ye Qiu appears suddenly from behind them making him jump. He lingers, staring at their characters and equipment. "Ready to go again?"

#####

"Captain."

He stands behind Wang Jiexi. He's just discovered a breakthrough technique that could be a total game changer.

"Captain, I have something to show you."

Wang Jiexi continues tapping on his keyboard.

"Captain."

Tap.

"Captain."

Tap tap.

"Captain!"

Finally, Wang Jiexi turns his head.

"Captain, I-"

And then Yingjie descends from the heavens dressed in a witch class cosplay. Yifan is brushed to the side. "Captain!" Yingjie exclaims, and Wang Jiexi starts to glow and magical-girl transform into Vaccaria. The twin witches fly off on their brooms leaving a trail of starlight in their wake. The stars blink on and off and begin to laugh mockingly. And suddenly the floor falls out beneath him and Yifan is fallingfallingfalling with the ground nowhere in sight.

#####

"Shameless! That's cheating! You can't get Sis Tang and Baozi to ambush us!" Yingjie fumes. He's getting desperate. It's nearing the end of the week and they have still yet to land even one point of damage on Ye Qiu. The captain's perfect birthday present hangs in the balance.

"It's not cheating if we agreed anything goes," the artist shrugs and leans back in his chair. "Don't lose your cool. You'll just make it harder for yourself."

It's disguised as a piece of advice, but anyone can tell that was a taunt.

"Yifan!" his friend snaps, and Yifan flinches a bit at the sharp tone. "Let's go over strategies together. Help me beat this guy."

#####

He's invisible again. He stands behind everyone's chairs, hovering around wishing that someone would notice him, would help him.

Liu Fei finally turns around in her seat. "Hey, where's that Yifan?"

His heart soars. Finally! Somebody!

She scans the room looking for him.

"I'm here, senior!"

She squints and leans back into her chair. "Damn. Where is that kid when you need him? I wanted a soda."

And just as quickly his heart shatters. He backs away, wants to escape, be anywhere but here, but he bumps into Ye Qiu blocking the way through the door.

Ye Qiu's hand on his shoulder instantly gives him the relief and steadiness he needs. The noise of the practice room fades into a distant murmur.

"What is it that you truly want?"

He looks over his shoulder back into the room at the dream version of Yingjie who is chatting merrily with all of his teammates and says nothing.

#####

They got lucky. There's no other explanation for how they managed to win. Though they had been able to bribe Tang Rou and Baozi from ambushing them again, Ye Qiu had still managed to evade their every action until finally this time his exhaustion from waking up every night caused a slip of the finger, making Yifan set off the wrong skill which somehow managed to barely graze the unspecialized character.

Ye Qiu's expression is not at all unhappy. In fact, he looks quite pleased.

"As we agreed, I'll grant you each one wish. What would you two like?"

"A painting for captain!" Yingjie exclaims.

"And you, Yifan?"

He thinks for a second, but there is nothing really that Ye Qiu can give him. He shakes his head. He's happy as long as his best friend is happy.

"How about I offer you a spot on our Team Happy? We could use a player like you."

"Yifan is already a part of Tiny Herb!" Yingjie grasps his hand protectively as if he would be stolen away.

Ye Qiu's laugh is hypnotizingly melodic. "Alright. How about a painting of you and your friend instead? A memento of your efforts."

He turns his head away and catches sight of his assassin still standing by Lord Grim in the grassy meadow. He looks back to Ye Qiu who is still waiting for his response patiently. A memento... that might be nice.

#####

It's mesmerizing. He's always thought being a model would be boring. Just sitting still, he's not doing anything, but he lets his mind wander as he watches Ye Qiu's brush dip into the colored pigments and glide gently across paper.

The whole week has been such a departure from normal that it seems surreal that they will be returning to City B tomorrow. Which life was real and which one was the dream?

When Ye Qiu is finally done painting, he flips it around to show the two of them.

He's speechless.

They were both there, in the painting, but his eyes are drawn to the image of himself. It's so real, but at the same time it's not. They wore the same clothes, had the same hair, the same face, but that Qiao Yifan is bright-eyed and straight-backed. That Qiao Yifan has an inherent potential inside of him just waiting to burst out. That Qiao Yifan is not anxious, or jealous, or weak. In short, he's radiant.

Goosebumps line his arms and he shivers in awe. Can just an image be so powerful? He doesn't know how to express himself in words.

Ye Qiu pats his head and his touch sends a flare of energy through him, a feeling of being simultaneously burned and cleansed.

As if he could read his mind, the artist smiles. "No need to thank me. I hope you'll remember the fun we had this week."

#####

They stop by Happy the last morning of their vacation to see Yingjie's commissioned birthday gift. It's still drying some, so Ye Qiu will send it in by mail, but it's an image of a brunette witch gazing at the starry night.

Yingjie has those same stars in his eyes as he thanks Ye Qiu profusely. He has a spring in his step all the way to the train station.

"I hope he likes the painting." Yingjie says softly as they sit down in their seats.

"I'm sure he will," he reassures. "After all, it's his favorite artist, and you're his fav- you're his successor."

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks."

Yifan looks down at the painting in his lap. The Qiao Yifan that Ye Qiu sees is limitless. He's got to work hard to shine too.

Yingjie is the one who falls asleep first to the rhythmic rockings of the train. Yifan yawns. His body is heavy. His mind, exhausted. Yingjie's weight is warm and steady against his shoulder. He blinks slowly, once, twice, three times, and starts to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

#####

"Sir, wake up. We've reached the final destination."

The train official shakes him awake. He rubs his bleary eyes.

"Yingjie, get up. We're home."

There's no reply. He shifts his stiff body and his hand brushes the empty seat beside him. It's cold.

"...Yingjie?"

#####

"How could you?! How could you not notice anything?! That's the future of Tiny Herb!"

"I- I don't know. I fell asleep!" He shrinks into his chair as Liu Xiaobie's accusations send knives into his gut.

Why didn't he notice anything? Why didn't he wake up? Why wasn't he the one taken?

He knows exactly what everyone is thinking, because that is what he's thinking himself.

But a tiny voice inside him whispers, maybe you didn't want to notice.

Wang Jiexi lays a hand on his shoulder and sends a warning glance to Liu Xiaobie.

"Yifan don't listen to them. They're just in shock and acting without thinking. You've had a hard time too, haven't you? It's okay if you need to take a few days longer for break."

He's whisked back to his room by the captain, and he closes his eyes as he lets himself be gently led.

He's a horrible person for wanting to enjoy this.

He's a ball of anxiety just doing nothing in his room, so he picks up his account card and loads it into the card-reader on his desk. The desktop loads the character on screen.

He feels the bitter taste of bile rise in his throat and he rushes to the wastebasket.

It's not his fault. It's not.

He thinks back to his unspoken desire.

But maybe it is .

#####

He returns to practice a week later. It's the captain's birthday. His teammates all watch him enter but none of them greet him. Liu Xiaobie gives him the dirty eye, and he swallows uncomfortably.

The captain's gift had come in the mail this morning. He presents the tubular package to him with a croaky voice. "Yingjie... he wanted to get this for you. That's what we were doing during our vacation before he..." he trails off.

Wang Jiexi opens the tube and taps out the canvas gently. He unrolls it on the conference table.

"It's beautiful..."

It seems Ye Qiu had added in a few details since the last time they saw the painting. The witch is now a blackish silhouette and he's now watching the stars rain down from the heavens.

Yifan returns to his seat in silence. He's gotten used to his character again, but he still has to remind himself, not confirmed dead, not my fault.

Wang Jiexi suddenly pulls up the seat beside him. Yingjie's seat.

"Let's play, Yifan. I'll give you some tips."

This is what you really wanted, isn't it? The thought stubbornly intrudes his mind, but he forcefully shoves it away.

His playing is jerky and stiff at first from the nerves, but he feels himself flourish under the attention of his captain. Maybe he really did improve from fighting the unpredictable Ye Qiu?

"Your condition is really good today, Xiao Jie- I'm sorry, Yifan."

Wang Jiexi immediately backpedals, but the damage is already done. Something in him just cracks. He looks around to his teammates who are all just staring at him. Is that all he is to them?

The world fractures around its edges.

"I'm done."

"What?"

"I quit." He abruptly stands from his chair and it topples behind him with a loud crash.

"Yifan, wait!" Wang Jiexi calls out to him.

His chest aches. Two weeks ago he would have done anything to have this chance.

He looks over his shoulder and lets the hurt show on his face. "Captain, you'll pay my contract breaching fees, won't you?"

Wang Jiexi lets him go.

#####

"Welcome back, Yifan. We were waiting for you." Golden eyes meet a hard blue and he says nothing as Ye Qiu's hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him into the internet cafe.

He doesn't know why he chose to come back. Ye Qiu is a stranger. Ye Qiu is the spark, the cause of everything gone wrong. He should hate Ye Qiu. He's empty now. Barren. Ugly. Ye Qiu has consumed his world like fire.

He doesn't know why he came back to Ye Qiu, but he doesn't care anymore. If he's a falling star, and Ye Qiu the fire, then he wants to set the whole night ablaze.


End file.
